Of Pawns and Kings
by KhronoKameleon
Summary: AU- There's a necromancer that's rumored to be able to bring back the dead. Yata makes a deal to bring Mikoto back at a price: His life's shortened with the title of "King" pushed upon him. Six months are left before he's out of time, "Aces" are destroying clans from the inside, and Saru's being trusted as his vassal. It's a race against time, and they're losing. (more inside)
1. Fog - Prologue part 1

_AN: Alrighty so first story on this site and first time actually posting fanfiction online so lets see how this goes. First off thank you for just reading it if you do, hell even reading this! Reviews and favorites I'm sure will push me to update if you guys like it, same with follows and whatnot. If you have any questions feel free to drop them by, I'll do my best to update as fast as possible and reply to everyone _

Thank you again!

**Summary: _There's a strain that's rumored to be able to bring back the dead. A necromancer, if you would. Yata finds him and makes a deal to bring Mikoto back at a price: Yata's life shortened with the title of "King" thrusted upon him. Between trying to find a way out of the deal keeping his old king alive and the new faction calling themselves "Aces" running around, he's at his end. Enter Saruhiko who has to play the role of vassal to Yata to capture the strain. The Aces however have a different plan, tearing clans apart from the inside ending with their king. The clock's ticking, there's only 6 months to get this done and Homura is the next target. Pairings: Sarumi (up to change), side is Mikotsuka -M for language and eventual adult themes._**

**Disclaimer: I dont own K sadly**

* * *

_"D'you remember when you said you'd do anything as my vassal? " Yata asked. The wind had stopped some time ago, leaving the two completely alone outside of Scepter 4. Inside would be the Blue King. Inside would be the utter deceit they'd put each other through. Separate goals would clash, he knew that. But those separate goals could kill them in one way or another. Either due to carelessness or the fact that this wasn't supposed to happen._

"_What?" Saruhiko's voice was quiet. He was thinking too much about this, surprisingly enough. Yata would have expected some sarcastic remark about that just being a 'joke not supposed to be taken so seriously'. Then again this wasn't a joking matter anymore._

"_If anything goes wrong I need you to stop me." _

"_Misaki, we'll be fine. We'll go in, stop this, and then everything will be back to normal." _

"_No, you know exactly what I mean." the vanguard's grip on the gate tightened, shaking the metal. His Aura flickered strongly as a reminder that they were close. He was close._

"_Misaki." the blue's voice came out sharper. Yata ignored it.  
_

"_I don't want this to repeat itself. I don't want responsibility of so many innocent people dying - of you dying. You've seen me yourself. I'm at my breaking point, Saru, and in order for everyone to be safe you need to listen to me." He took a deep breath and forced his eyes away from the ground. Hazel met those cold blue that he'd grown used to over the last months. The only difference now was the swirl of emotions visible for a change. Worry, anger, desperation, fear..._

_Yata steadied himself with another glance at the marble building before them._

"_Promise me... that if I lose control over my powers in there – over myself- you'll kill me."_

* * *

He was so close, yet so _far_.

The street light above him flickered and gave off a low buzz, casting a yellow light down into the fog. December was upon the city; they'd already gotten snow earlier in the week. Yet this fog was different. It wasn't a result of a freak weather change – no, it was because of something else. Something that caused the smoke-like air to pull at your very soul and guide you through twists and turns until you were at the source.

Which is exactly what he was doing.

Yata pushed himself along the sidewalk, after the near invisible lines in the sky where the tendrils would overlap each other. Each strand of fog was separate, but all connected to the same shadow. That shadow was a strain, and that strain would be hiding in the open – Yata knew that from previous Homura endeavors – but he didn't know if he'd find it in time. Necromancers never ran by the same time schedule. They'd appear then disappear whenever they pleased and, rare enough as they were, you only got one chance. A necromancer will only show itself to you once in a lifetime if you're lucky enough to notice it's presence. If not then you can't change anything. Your life goes on in the same dull circle it did before. The fog shifted and the strands became more concentrated. He was getting closer. .

The sidewalk melded into a street. The industry buildings blended with apartment buildings until the latter took over as the obstructions on the side of the road. He'd been down here a few times on Homura trips but not enough that he'd be able to find his way home easily after this. He frowned. He should've had a better plan than running headfirst into this. But what would he have done? Consulted what was left of Homura about this?

No, Yata shook his head and forced his leg to move him faster, this was his idea. He was going to be the one to set things straight. He was always loyal to Mikoto. It was about time to prove that to his clan.

The apartment buildings became rundown complexes with the only light being a faint glow from the ethereal wisps of fog that disappeared into the mouth of an alley. A cold wind blew from it, urging him to run away. He held himself there and with a deep breath took the first step into the dark.

He reached behind him, grabbing the bat from the bag slung over his shoulder. It wouldn't do anything against a Necromancer, they were practically indestructible. The bat provided a sense of comfort though, taking the place of his aura.

Mikoto had taken that to his grave.

Yata picked up his skateboard when he came to a four-way intersection. The fog from the other three paths, including his own, disappeared into the ground in the center. A figure leaned against the street light that was burnt out, smoking a cigarette. Even the smoke that curled from the lips of the form sunk around and into the ground. He forced himself to take a deep breath. It was now or never.

He didn't even have to move. The cigarette fell to the ground and a boot stomped it into the asphalt. The Necromancer's eyes opened, visible red through the lack of light. It froze the vanguard and he realized just how _stupid_ coming here alone had been. This was a suicide mission, he realized when what was left of the floating fog blocked the path behind him.

"I didn't know Homura was still around. You guys must be pretty weak, huh?" the voice was low and gravely. Yata's grip on the bat tightened.

"Shut the hell up. You're lucky I don't just kill you now, bastard."

The Strain's head tilted to the side. "No, you wouldn't. Not while I have something you want, correct? That's the reason you traveled this far."

The vanguard's free hand clenched and unclenched. His muscles were tense and pleading to run away, but that voice held a taunting tone to it, urging him to ask and move forward until Yata was standing right in front of the Necromancer. The red eyes were trained on him.

"I need you to do something for me."

A scoff. The Necromancer shook his head, letting a small chuckle leave his body. Instead of answering he pulled out another cigarette.

"I need you to bring back Mikoto Suoh." Yata pressed on. "I _need_ you to bring him back."

"I don't work with clan members, especially those with ties to Scepter 4."

Yata snapped. He lifted the bat and shoved it against the Strain's throat, pressing into it threateningly. He got a snarl as a response, and a choke when the cigarette fell out of its mouth.

"You think I'm joking?"

"You're mistaken if you think_ I_ am, Homura." The voice dropped cold. What fog had seeped into the ground was beginning to swirl around them, blocking any means of escape. Yata growled and pushed harder.

"What do I have to do then."

"You're offering a deal?"

"If that's what it takes then yes."

He realized he'd made a mistake as soon as the air around them started to glow. Pale grey turned to blinding white by the time the Necromancer shoved Yata away.

"You want everything to return to the way it was that bad don't you; you want Mikoto in charge again and Homura running around thinking they're the fucking _rulers_ of the city? Fine. You'll get it on one condition. I'll bring Mikoto back -hell I'll even throw in something extra - but you'll have to deal with my twist on the situation."

"Fine." Yata shoved his hand out towards the other. He didn't have time to pull it back. The Necromancer laughed and tugged him forward, shoving the other hand against his forehead, right between his eyes. A searing pain followed, slamming through his head and down to his toes. Yata's legs buckled at the unexpected wave. He sunk to his knees, gripping the others hand weakly, trying to tug it away from his head.

As soon as it was there, it was gone.

"Six months. You have six months and only that with them before I come to claim the rest of your life."

"Bastard you never said-"

"You never asked what my terms were. A life is half of yours, two lives equals all of yours. Six months is generous, you should be thankful. Usually it's just a week. Think of this as, ah, pity for your loss."

"You son of a-"

Another wave gripped his head when the Necromancer pulled his hair to look at him.

"I'll see you then," A smile stretched across its face. It made Yata's stomach drop. "Our new Red King."


	2. Flame - Prologue part 2

**AN: Quick little note – I said wednesday I would update this but apparently I meant friday because school tried to kill me. It's summer though, so expect lots of updates! Probably 2 chapters every week and a half to two weeks with oneshots thrown in here and there. **

**As a little look into the future, this is probably going to be a dryish chapter, just going from Yata to Saru and finishing what I guess you would call the prologue. Now that the king powers are into play things are going to start picking up from here. In fact we'll probably have a little Yata and Saru time in the next chapter! Leave a review and tell me if you liked this one or not, any questions, suggestions or things you liked etc etc ~ Next chapter will have Mikoto and Totsuka back in the game and an explaining flashback since I practically jumped into this without adding one earlier!**

**Thank you for the reviews, favorites and just views so far! They're very encouraging^^**

**Also I apologize for how long this one is, I couldn't choose a spot to end it. But without further ado, enjoy! ~**

* * *

Burning. He was slowly burning _alive._

The fire danced across his skin in transparent arcs, spreading through every individual nerve when it dipped into his skin. The pain was absolutely unbearable and the center of it seemed to be the Homra tattoo now glowing deadly red on his collar bone. When Yata finally opened his eyes the world was too bright. It hurt to look anywhere and the sudden onslaught caused a wave of flames to spread out around his body like a barrier. The pain lessened significantly the longer the familiar red surrounded him. It was probably just all the build-up from being cut off from his power the past month, that'd make sense, right? But at the same time he knew it didn't make sense. None of this was.

Yata collapsed back onto the ground, taking the liberty to grab his skateboard a few feet away and sit on it. He frowned and stared at the desolate buildings around him. The fire around him slowly died away, taking more effort to bring back and control than usual. Was that part of whatever the hell the Necromancer did? It had to have been, after all he said he'd bring Mikoto back... right? Yata himself being the new King made no sense. The slate would have skipped over him; he was too reckless and childish to hold that much power... yet...

Yet he felt different. The need to unleash his aura and just let it _go_ was overwhelming and clouding his head. He felt like he was going to explode with the burn that was left behind, pressing still at the tattoo. It was hell and irritating. With a sharp breath out, fire followed in a burst greater than he expected. The pressure in his head shrunk just the slightest. Yata scoffed. Fine, if that's how it had to be to make it go away, then he'd just let it all come out.

It didn't take long before he was standing back out in the middle of the alley's intersection, fists curled into balls and pressed into his sides. His eyes closed and the wind brushed past him before dying out completely. He took a deep breath, his arms rose on their own to cross in front of his chest. The wave of heat rushed to the surface of his body, prodding with pins and needles to break out. The breath he was holding was let go, his eyes snapped open and his arms spread out to his sides. Immediately the world was engulfed in orange and yellow. It twisted and burst out from every bit of his body, taking up the rubble and shooting the street light's bulb completely out. The wind rushed back only to send the blaze upwards in a circle around him to the sky.

Hazel eyes fluttered closed as the pain left completely and the usual thrill of the aura took its spot. He missed _this_ so much; the exhilaration and danger of it all. As always, however, it ended too soon. With the final wisp of yellow, his aura disappeared from around him and up into the air to join the rest where it had gathered in a ball hanging in the middle of the sky. The colors melded together until slowly separating to show what Yata hadn't realized he'd been so desperately hoping not to see.

Suspended above him was the Sword. The edges glowed the same red as his own aura, and the only difference from when he last saw it was it was complete. The blade was still porous and jagged, rising up to connect with the cross guard, the two matching spikes complete and wrapping around like a protective barrier around the orb that was set in center. The grip rose tallest of all with the same intricate swirl engraved into it.

His stomach dropped. This was bad, really, really bad. "You're kidding." he mumbled. He felt like the sword defied him with the next act. The center orb shot out a beam of light that lowered to the ground quickly. As soon as it touched the earth it shot out like a wave, passing through him and out towards Shizume city.

Not a second later the Blue King's sword appeared in the sky.

This was bad. This was really, really bad.

**.o O o.**

"Are you going to just sit there all day or are you going to do something for once." Lieutenant Awashima sighed. The manila folder fell from her hand and onto Saruhiko Fushimi's desk. The latter didn't look away from the window. He just clicked his tongue and matched her sigh.

"Eventually. What's it this time?"

She flipped the file open to the first page. A glossy photo of a map of the city had red circles across its span. Fushimi reluctantly moved it to the side and thumbed through the thin stack of papers. Files on a group of Strains they had tried to catch for a while now. They'd hit a new target outside of Shizume, it seemed.

"Same thing as last. Two of the four walked into the place and then back out. The other two then followed suit. Count it as a gut feeling, but it seems like they're scouting out a new 'family'," She paused to frown. "Their King isn't doing anything to keep them in line."

"Have you tried visiting him?" He groaned. Great, a headache. Just what he needed. He glared back out the window and not-so-unintentionally at the lieutenant's reflection. Awashima shook her head and crossed her arms.

"The King will talk to you shortly about that. I assume he'll place that decision in your hands. In the meantime, however, I suggest you start getting your work _done._ If you are assigned this as well, Fushimi, your work will pile up."

"Not like I get a break around here anyways." He bit back under his breath. If she heard him, she didn't let it be known. She did, however, turn on her heel and march back across the office towards the King's abode. Typical Lieutenant, serious and cold.

Saruhiko felt himself slump back into his chair. Multiple folders of various thickness were stacked haphazardly on one side of his desk. Some had papers sticking out, some were extremely pristine. Either way they all held the same information; strains and who ever else decided they'd had enough were rising back up. With a king down and out of the picture – not to mention one who's clan was a giant problem to everyone else – revenge was a broad topic these days.

The blue brought himself to look at the new folder again, taking care this time to actually read some of the finer print. The Green King was held high above the strains. He controlled them, kept them under his wing and supervision. However lately, he seemed to be out of the picture. Either something was wrong with the king – what patterns Scepter 4 could dig up didn't show much differentiation, Fushimi recalled – or he was just looking the other way. Saruhiko held up the photo of the four strains to the light. This _group_ seemed to be the main issue. Infiltrating clans and minor factions were their specialty it seemed. They'd go in, make themselves seem a part of it, then break it down from the inside. _Tear it where it's the weakest,_ he thought, _make them see that their pride left them blind. That's their game._

Oh how familiar he was with that game. He'd done the exact same thing years ago, hadn't he. Wasn't he responsible for the flame that erupted from Homra every time they saw him? No, he frowned, not all of Homra. Just Misaki. It was he who blew up and came after the blue. It was he who would scream threats and obscenities first. It was the forgotten friend who'd focus only on Saruhiko and block out everything else for him. That anger, the hatred... the need to cause the other the same pain he felt. It was overwhelming and ran to the blue's head every single time.

He dropped the picture back down onto the folder and sighed. How was Misaki holding out anyways? It'd been a while since he'd last seen him, the last time being back at the school when they fought and had his king die. Saruhiko absently scratched at the tattoo. Same place as Misaki's. _Doesn't matter. He doesn't care, why should I even bother?_

A figure showed up in the window's reflection behind him. Munakata stood there and flipped through the new folder, waiting patiently for his subordinate to recognize his presence.

"The lieutenant passed on your message you wanted to talk." Saruhiko threw out. The King hummed in reply and held up one of the pictures.

"Naturally. I expected you to have a say on the matter of the Green King."

Saruhiko clicked his tongue and shoved his hands into his pockets. "We can't sit here and wait. If we do another attack will happen, it's only logical."

"Any reports on his whereabouts?"

He shook his head and turned around to face the King. Munakata didn't bother to look up.

"Not that I know of."

"Isn't it your job?" Munakata mused. He glanced up at Saruhiko for a split second, long enough to make the other very uncomfortable. To mask it he clicked his tongue.

"I handed the task off to Fuse. He's working on it."

"Make sure he finishes _soon._ As you said yourself, we don't have a lot of time. I would like to talk to the King within the next few days."

"I'll pass along the message."

"Good," The blue superior nodded. He crossed his arms behind his back and strode over to join the other at the window. Midday, still plenty of time left to accomplish things. The Blue King cast his eyes towards his subordinate. "I'm taking you with me to talk to him. The Lieutenant will manage things here. You're in charge of this case, essentially, therefore you'll finish it."

"Understood." Saruhiko sighed. The breeze picked up outside. It started to violently shake the leaves on the trees in the building's courtyard. Off in the distance there was a bright light, a red beam that shot up to the sky in a ball of fire. The fire faded and showed the Red clan's sword hanging bright and proud in the air.

His breath caught and a sinking feeling ran through him. _You're kidding_.

Saruhiko couldn't move away from the window. A red light shot out of the center orb and fell to the ground. The next thing he knew his chest was on fire. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move. The pain was unbearable and it felt like his skin was just going to burn _off._ The feeling kept pulling him deeper into the fire and he collapsed unable to stand to his knees. Everything was spinning, the world was tinged in red and oh _god it hurt._

He barely acknowledged Munakata's boots beside him and the light touch on his shoulder caused him to yelp out in pain. He could barely see his own hand on the ground, clawing at the cheap carpet under it. His body started to glow a blood-red.

He couldn't help but give in to the black that prodded into his vision before anything else happened.


End file.
